Soulflayer's Slayers
by LegendsofKorrigans
Summary: In the world of Redwall, Marty Stu Iosef is torn from his perfection and brought under the tutelage of a former Sue-slayer, who has created an organization based within the books' world to stop these pests from interfering with the storylines, with only a little help from time-warping noodles.
1. The Rescue of Iosef

**A/N:** My first shot at a Sue-slaying fic. There will be more chapters after this one. Reviews are welcome.

* * *

On the night Iosef left home, it was darker than it had been all season. The first moon of winter, nearly invisible in the starless sky, hid behind the clouds, which were delivering a slashing rainstorm to the sparse forest below. In the distance, thunder crackled menacingly, promising to cross the far-off mountains and visit the plains Iosef was striding through, though the muddy ground should have significantly slowed his advance. His eyes, a perfect, deep brown, gleamed through the downpour, and his fur hadn't at all become sodden or drenched. At his side hung a katana, beautifully polished and engraved with magical runes and he bore a beautiful, sky blue satchel, adorned with intricate designs portraying birds and flowers. His well-developed muscles were evident even through his mithril chainmail, and he seemed to dance over the wet ground, each step light yet determined. He knew exactly where he was going.

At the edge of the wood, ready to jump the oncoming mouse as soon as he wandered into their grasp, were a dozen stoats, weasels and ferrets, teeth bared savagely at the thought of the spoils to be had, the blood to be spilt. As the mouse's shape drew closer and closer, though still shadowed by the darkness and the rain, a somewhat voice crackling like leaves on a fire hissed through the thick air.

"If Ah were ye, esteemed robbers, Ah would leave this place as quickly as Ah could." The dozen heads turned to behold a cowled figure holding a walking stick. They couldn't make out its features, but knew instinctively that the speaker was vermin, as they were. As such, they didn't immediately try to rush it, but preemptively drew their weapons. The creature pointed with one long, clawed finger at the advancing figure. "Yon young lad there, that ye are on the verge of waylayin', is what one would refer to as a Mary Sue, or Marty Stu in the case of a lad such as this. Need Ah say more?" The mustelids shuddered, nodded thanks to the hooded beast for its rescue and vanished into the woods, greatly relieved that they hadn't stuck around to interact with certain death or... Sparkling.

The figure, not yet satisfied, moved to stand at the treeline, planting its feet and walking stick in the soft ground. Iosef eventually came within speaking distance, and stopped, noting the presence of the cowled being before him. He opened his mouth to hail the stanger, but the other spoke first.

"Katanas dinnae exist in this world."

Iosef felt as if the stranger had punched him in the gut. It continued, a wry smile on its shadowed snout. "Magic is occasionally implied, but ne'er revealed. The runes on yer weapon are absurd." The mouse felt a burning sensation in his chest, and recoiled, trying to draw its sword. The stranger stepped after him, using his walking stick to maintain stability. "Yer eyes should be tired and dim. Yer fur should be soaked and lie flat against yer cold, wet body. Yer muscles are disproportionate tae yer body mass - by all rights, ye should look downright ridiculous. And if it weren't fer the Sparkly cloudin' me vision, doubtless ye would." At this, the mouse turned and tried to flee, just as the mysterious speaker snarled his last verbal attack.

"The ground is wet and slippery, and yer paws should 'ave nae great traction on it. Know imperfection, Stu. Feel the burn o' reality!"

Iosef slipped, fell face first into the mud, and began to writhe, shrieking like a banshee, as his eyes lost their luster, his fur suddenly darkened and lay flat, his weapon dissolved and his muscles rippled one last time before shrinking, becoming proportionate to his body, yet somehow becoming less aesthetically pleasing. The stranger seemed to revel in the Stu's discomfort, claws tightening around his walking stick and a cruel grin crossing his features. After nearly a minute of Sparkly-dissolution, a water-logged, muddy-furred, rather scrawny mouse in a plain tunic lay facedown in the muck, with a leather knapsack and a shortsword lying beside him. He groaned, his voice muffled by the earth in which his face rested, slowly pushed himself up to all fours, resting on his hands and knees. Iosef, now far from perfect, looked up at his saviour, wondering who could possess the power to wrest the perfection from a Sue.

Staring down at him, face visible from Iosef's current perspective, was a gray fox with a long scar running diagonally across his visage. A smile and narrowed eyes, conveying a less-than-friendly sentiment, gazed down at the transformed mouse. They stared each other down for a long minute, the rain never easing, until at last the fox spoke.

"Can ye handle that sword?"

The mouse's brain scrambled with the suddenness of the question, and managed, "Kind of."

The expression on the fox's face became one of amusement. "Are ye willing tae learn?" Recognizing this as an invitation, and being hopelessly lost and confused anyway, the mouse nodded quickly. Now the fox's smile became genuine. "Rise, then. Ah'll teach ye tae fight, lad, and tae do much more n' that, if ye'll follow meh." As the fox turned and began to trudge back into the woods, Iosef rose as quickly as he could, almost slipped, then righted himself, gathered his pack and shortsword and began to follow his saviour into the trees.

Into Mossflower...


	2. The Hell Does That Mean? the Road Trip

**A/N:** To those of you who care, I apologize for the wait in the uploading of a second chapter. The fact is, too often do I succumb to the heartrending claws of lack of inspiration and writer's block, as my interest in the story gradually trickles away. To avoid this, what I've done is plan out the entire story, from Iosef's rescue to - well, you'll see if you stick with it to the end. So without further ado, I give you the rather delayed Chapter 2 of Iosef's story.

* * *

 _Three days after the rescue of Iosef_

The mouse trod over the fallen leaves at a steady gait, the mostly empty pack on his back barely weighing him down. The cloaked fox, only a few yards ahead of him, strolled rather casually, but was using his walking stick to support his left leg, which visibly limped. All the same, he tilted his now-uncowled head upwards, taking in the sunlight, the rustling of the wind through Mossflower Woods like a sweet voice whispering of wonders in shades of Autumn soon to come. The leaves on which the pair of travelers stepped were golden, brown and showing hints of red, still bearing the remnants of life given to them by the trees from which they had fallen. In the distance, a warlike sparrow song could be heard, as the fierce birds made their presence known to the entire wood. The fox smiled, the expression looking rather frightening and out of place on his scarred visage. "Ahhhh... Mossflower's the place to be come Autumn. So beautiful, so grand and so powerful." He looked back on Iosef, whose attention he had fully claimed. "Don't ye think?" The mouse nodded, a small grin appearing on his face as he trotted up to his companion. "Yeah, for sure... but those sparrows don't sound too friendly, and we've already had to hide from two vermin bands since we started walking. These woods seem really dangerous."

The fox's broad smile closed slightly, but remained unchanged in his eyes. "Ay, but that's just part of its beauty. Life, lad - life is dangerous, nae matter which way ye look at it." Despite his seeming lack of care, Iosef didn't miss the quick glance both ways as he focused again on the unseen path through the woods. The mouse was taking it on faith that the fox knew where he was going, and that he wasn't going to be delivered as a slave to some vermin warlord and the fox would turn out to be a shady seer in their servitude; after all, how many charlatans could rip the Suishness from a Sue-to-be with their very words?

Since they had set off, the fox had lain claim to several interesting titles. He had introduced himself as Heath Soulflayer - a most unusual name, in the young fieldmouse's very limited experience - and declared himself to be the leader of an organization dedicated to the destruction of Mary Sue and all her apostles. "It's great," the fox had said rather proudly, "because we're able tae work within the world we protect. It really is something special, which Ah suspect ye'll soon come tae love."

"So, I'll be - working with you?" Iosef had inquired of Heath Soulflayer, and had been given a smiling nod in response. "If ye can pass the test. And ye've already begun yer application."

"Have I?" Iosef was confused. What was he supposed to be doing? The fox grinned. "Ye've got tae make it there. It's a bit o' a hike - we'll be taking Slagar's slave route." Iosef shook his head, his confusion only deepening. "What is that?"

"Oh, Ah see... ye're nae familiar with the stories ye'll be wandering through. Well, we'll address that when we get there. A rather critical issue, it is, but dinnae fear! Ah suspect ye'll be fine." Iosef had come out of that exchange even more uncertain of what was going on, and would have been irritated with the fox's opaque statements if he hadn't just been saved from the hideous position of being a Marty Stu. And so, he put his trust in the grey-furred enigma, following him as the rations inexplicably contained in his pack began to disappear. He commented on this to Soulflayer, who only said, "Ah hope ye're fond o' noodles." Iosef found this rather infuriating, but said nothing, and continued to follow the fox into the unknown.

* * *

 _Five days after Iosef's rescue_

"Can ye manage, Lad?"

"Y-yeah... Hell's Teeth, it's high up here -"

"Dinnae look down. Yer head'll start tae spin." Iosef tried as best he could to follow his companion's advice, but the earth far below seemed to call to his eyes, begging for just a glance. Despite this, the mouse somehow managed to keep his gaze on his objective. 'Slagar's slave route', as Soulflayer called it, was proving challenging. Until now, Iosef hadn't quite been deterred by the journey ahead, but now, as he hung perilously from a rope on a sheer, fatal drop, ascending slowly to the top of a cliff, he wondered if it would prove too much, if his arms would give out before he made it to safety - no! Those thoughts were more dangerous than the burn in his muscles; he had to concentrate on succeeding, rather than the idea of failing. As he swung another hand up to snatch at the rope, he saw smoke rising over the edge of the cliff, and for a moment he panicked. Soulflayer had already completed his climb, and should have been waiting for him on the edge. For one moment he wondered if the fox had set fire to the grass above, to burn through his rope and send him plummeting to his doom, before he realized that this was foolish. He wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of bringing him this far only to pointlessly murder him - from what Iosef had seen, Heath Soulflayer had only one foot in the Insane Asylum. The other... well, he'd know soon enough. With a grunt, the mouse swung himself over the edge of the cliff to see the grey fox sitting before a cooking pot, waiting for him with a rather satisfied smirk on his face as he ladled something resembling baked beans into a wooden bowl. "Ah, there ye are - Ah'd wondered if Ah'd ever see ye again." Iosef couldn't reply - he was too busy trying to catch his breath, relaxing his sore arms after the arduous climb.

A silence filled the air, made warm by the baked beans Soulflayer had made - only a temperate wind whisking across the earth and Iosef's breathing could be heard. Once several minutes ticked by, the fox suddenly asked, "Sae, Iosef... what's yer - eh - story?"

"Story?" came the breathy voice from the edge of the cliff. "Ah mean, what were ye going tae do, when Ah found ye outside Mossflower?"

"Oh..." though Soulflayer wasn't looking at Iosef's face, he could practically _hear_ the mouse cringe. "Well, I don't quite remember, but I think it was along the lines of 'make Matthias look like a scrub, own Cluny and make Cornflower my girlfriend and turn her into a Sue..."

Slurping his beans, Soulflayer's ears twitched thoughtfully. "Sae, ye're aware of what happens in 'Redwall', but not the other Tales? Odd..." He tilted his head upwards, as if checking the darkening clouds for rain. "Eh... in truth, ye weren't sae bad as Sues go. Ye basically turned intae Matthias, only more powerful. Tell me, Iosef, were ye going tae angst yer ass off?" Sitting up, Iosef tapped two fingers against his lips, trying to remember. "I... don't think so. I mean, I didn't have any reason to."

"Ahhh, but that's where ye're making the assumption that Sues _need_ reasons tae do things," The fox pointed out, passing his young companion a bowl of beans. "Indeed, it's part of what makes them sae dangerous."

* * *

 _Seven days after the rescue of Iosef_

"Where are we?"

"The Southern Plateau, lad. We're well on our way." Iosef breathed a sign of relief. "However, there's a Horde of rats who've got an arrangement with the local slavers tae lead 'em through here, and Ah doubt they'll take kindly tae our presence."

"Is this really the only way to where we're going?" Soulflayer grimaced, pulling his cowl over his ears. "As of this time period, ay." Iosef gritted his teeth; the fox had continued mentioning these 'times' and 'storylines', and the poor mouse still had received nothing vaguely resembling an explanation. When pressed on this matter, Soulflayer had merely laughed and said, "Ye'll know soon enough, lad. All too soon ye'll be caught up in the business, unless Ah'm wrong." At this stage, Iosef was simply trying to accept that he wouldn't get a straight answer until they reached the objective Soulflayer had in mind, and thus remained quiet when the confounded 'time period' was mentioned.

Iosef's eyes scanned the plateau, scouring the rocky expanse for any sign of vermin activity, when his attention was drawn by a sharp hiss of "Start walking quickly; this is right by their usual patrol route." Soulflayer had already begun loping across the plateau, his cloak fluttering out behind him as he advanced into cold south wind. Iosef ran to catch up, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure the rats weren't on their tail. "Will they catch up to us?"

"Ah doubt it. They're sneaky when they need tae be, but there's nowhere on the plateau fer them tae hide, and as we can't see them, they're not anywhere near us. As tae how Ah knew..." He trailed off as they cleared the plateau and began to descend down the slope on the South edge, picking up again when they neared the bottom. "...Did ye not see the dirt trail in the ground? 'Twere the same colour as the earth beside it, but 'twas there plain as day." He looked sideways as Iosef, who kept up easily with the fox's uneven stride. "That's something ye'll have tae get used to, once ye're inducted intae me little crew. Sues, however attention-seeking and obvious they may usually be tae spot, might not always appear in plain sight. Beware them, Iosef, my lad - the worst kind are those ye never know are there until ye've been blinded by their Sparkling."

* * *

 _Eleven days after the rescue of Iosef_

"Ick!" Soulflayer looked amused as Iosef spat out a glob of sand which had suddenly swept into his mouth on the wind. "If ye'd opened yer mouth tae ask another question, lad, Ah'd save it fer when we get there."

"I know," the mouse said, wiping his mouth of residual sand and turning his face away from the wind. "You keep saying that, but it's difficult when you're constantly alluding to these important-sounding things and then refusing to explain them." The fox chuckled, not seeming at all bothered by Iosef's irritation or the sand (the latter probably due in no small part to his cowl). "Throughout yer life, ye'll not always be able to have answers right away."

"Yeah, but you've got them. I'm in the dark here, Mr. Soulflayer - all I know is we're going to slay Sues."

"And the rest is but details. Have patience, lad." As his paws and walking stick dug into the sand atop a dune, Soulflayer scrutinized his companion labouring up behind him, trying not to slide back down along with the sand he was displacing. "Is that a hint of an inquisitive personality Ah'm hearing in yer voice, Iosef?" The mouse looked up questioningly, and as his focus broke he lost his footing and landed at the foot of the dune, coughing as the sand blew into his face. Soulflayer, shoving the tip of his walking stick into the desert and offering his paw to his fallen companion, chuckled lightly. "When Ah tore ye from being a Sue, I believe ye were... reborn, Ah think would be an appropriate way tae put it. This should have an upside and a downside. The downside being that, as of nine days ago, ye actually had no personality, and only the rudiments of an identity. Ye were as a babe with all the knowledge of a fieldmouse of sixteen seasons."

Iosef, taking the proffered paw shook his head wonderingly, considering whether this could be true. It sounded ridiculous - and yet, if he indeed had no personality but a short while ago, how could he have known without first knowing what it felt like to have a personality? "And the upside?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that only a few days back he had been a blank slate.

"Well," Soulflayer said thoughtfully, hauling Iosef up the dune and yanking his walking stick out of the sand, "since ye had no personality, ye are, in effect, building yerself from scratch at a later age. Ye seem tae know what Sues are, and have a fair grasp of the common language... sae ye're essentially a somewhat generic character with no defining traits, but immense potential tae develop due tae yer lack of backstory. Do ye have any interests, lad?"

The fieldmouse scratched his head, sifting through the mental files he could immediately access and coming up empty. "...Not that I can think of - oh, man, I think you're right!" Soulflayer grinned, covering one of his nostrils with a clawed finger and ejecting sand - among other things. "Ye'll find some, lad. We've a rather large collection o' reading material back home - a fine place tae start looking, Ah should think." Iosef, though slightly disgusted by the fox's lack of decency, grinned back. "That would be really nice. I've never read anything in my life, though... do I know how to read?" Soulflayer's excitement lessened somewhat, but remained evident. "Well, ye'd never spoken afore I ripped ye from auld Iosef-Stu, but ye could chatter on just fine. Hell's Teeth, Ah've never heard sae many questions in a week and a half!" Shaking his head, the cowled fox walked down the other side of the dune with Iosef close behind, one openly struggling to keep sand out of his eyes, and the other quietly chuckling at his companion's futile efforts.

"This desert doesn't want to END!"

"Come on; the prisoners from _Mattimeo_ didnae yammer as much as ye do."

"Who?"

"Nobeast."

* * *

 _Thirteen days since the rescue of Iosef_

"Thirteen's an unlucky day," muttered Iosef to himself as he dug through his knapsack, "and an unlucky day indeed when you run out of food on the road. Hey, Soulflayer!" The fox, sitting on the crest of a gentle, grassy slope, looked up from the biscuit he was eating, crunching the grainy substance awkwardly between his sharp teeth. "What?" Iosef displayed the empty knapsack to his companion as one might present a rotten egg, a scowl on his face. "Have ye - you got anything to eat?"

"Nay," came the disinterested answer, as the fox took another jagged piece out of the biscuit. He began to play it between his fingers like a coin, catching it with his other paw when it fell due to the uneven edge his fangs had inflicted on it. Iosef sighed, then bared his teeth slightly as minor desperation kicked in. "If you would be so willing, could I have the rest of that biscuit?"

"Nay," Soulflayer repeated, a rather smug grin stealing its way across his features. He began to lightly toss the object of Iosef's desire between his paws, trivializing the importance of the last bit of food the travelers possessed. "Ah'll eat it meself, however stale it may be." The fieldmouse cursed under his breath, imagining snatching it out of the air and eating it before Soulflayer could react, and promptly realized that however swift he might try and seize it, the fox was a Sue-slayer, trained to move and react at speeds that other beasts would consider almost unnatural. "Agh..." Was it worth trying for? The question answered itself when Soulflayer went to take another bite out of the biscuit. As the victual neared his jaws, Iosef launched himself through the air, almost crying "Eulalia!" despite the lack of meaning the phrase would hold for him.

Though he had anticipated not being able to steal the biscuit, Iosef was still astonished with the speed with which Soulflayer moved. The fox didn't even look at the airborne mouse with savage hunger in his eyes, hadn't even flinched beforehand. A tiny twitch in his left ear was the only sign he even knew what was coming before the grey-furred mass that Iosef had been set to collide with was nowhere to be found. Something the hungry mouse hadn't taken into account at all was the hill the biscuit-flaunting villain had been sitting on top of, and thus, with a rather quiet "Oh...", went sailing quite a bit further through the air than he'd thought he would, tumbling head over heels down the grassy slope, bruising in several places and making abrupt contact with something hard, which gave way to the even harder ground, with which he was acquainted face-first at a jarring velocity.

Seeing black spots at the edge of his vision, Iosef shook his head and tried to focus his eyes on the seven white stoats wavering before him, which gradually coalesced into a single, noticeably angry stoat, with an equally angry-looking large sword on his back. A pretty squirrelmaid, trying to hide her giggling behind one of her paws, stood to the stoat's left, and as Iosef tried to rise, the white stoat called to him in a voice lacking any sort of vermin accent.

"Hey, what the Hell gives?" Not quite sure of that himself, Iosef opened his mouth and pointed to where he thought the hill he had tumbled down was, unable to form any coherent explanation. The stoat, waiting for said explanation with his paws on his hips, observed with growing confusion and amusement in equal parts, and soon was trying to stop himself snickering at Iosef's continued incoherency, all while the poor mouse flailed about helplessly, trying to think of a way to explain the situation without making himself look like an ass. All his prospective explanations began with "I wanted a biscuit," which he astutely imagined wouldn't quite correct the clumsy first impression he had made for himself. And then, to make everything ten times worse, he heard Soulflayer's loud, heavily accented voice, projected from the hill whence Iosef had fallen.

"Everyone, please welcome our new trainee: Iosef Fieldmouse!"

* * *

 **A/N:** I sincerely hope those of you who enjoyed the first chapter haven't completely lost interest. I now have the entire story planned out, and so the completion and uploading of new chapters should happen much faster. I'll warn you now; there won't be any Sue-slaying for a while, as Iosef will need training to receive the knowledge and skill necessary to fight those Sparkly fiends, but once it comes I promise a festival of silliness and Sue tears. Thanks to reviewers and readers alike. Your feedback is appreciated.


	3. Enter the Slayers

"So, your mad excursion to Mossflower wasn't fruitless after all?"

Iosef barely registered the big sea otter's deep voice; he was wholly occupied with consuming the contents of the bowl of strange, foreign noodles the Slayers had placed in front of him.

Upon his arrival via rapid uncontrolled downhill cannonball, Soulflayer's crew had led him through an encampment that to the casual observer might look like a nomadic resting place. Four large tents stood on the grass, the largest of which had the design of a wraithlike fox dyed on its entrance. Iosef presumed that this was Soulflayer's tent, but could investigate no further as he was hauled into a medium-sized wooden building, looking rather like a sophisticated vermin outpost. Constructed of oak and cedar, the establishment into which Iosef was led had been conspicuously built in the shadow of a massive pine tree. Nobeast bothered to point it out to him, and he didn't particularly mind, even with all the answers he had been craving for so long right in front of him. All he had wanted was a decent meal, preferably not something canned or indefinitely unspoiled such as the biscuits the fox and he had eaten nearly every day since he had been reborn. And, to his immense gratification, he had received such a meal.

The inside of the establishment mostly consisted of shelves and shelves of typewritten documents, with denotations such as 'Goodfic', 'Badfic', 'Restricted For Your Safety', and other such notices that established genre and tropes, all classifying the documents into recognizable and easily accessible categories. Besides the shelves, a cold fireplace sat in the center of the building's right wall, faced by six wicker chairs, each bearing a signature so conspicuous that Iosef noticed them even as he was half-dragged through the building and plunked down at a large table, which also had six corresponding seats around it. Unlike the wicker chairs, these, as far as Iosef could tell, bore no signature. Uncertain of what to do, he had stared down at the table before him as the four beasts who had hauled him into the building had gathered around, scrutinizing the new arrival with openly critical eyes. Palpable, awkward silence had reigned for a brief moment, until Soulflayer appeared out of nowhere bearing a large cauldron brimming with what appeared to be a noodle soup with the end of a ladle protruding from its depths. With a grin Iosef found somewhat unsettling, the fox placed the cauldron on the table, leapt onto a chair and bowed, seeming not at all hindered by his limp. "My friends, Ah present tae ye... yer lunch! Indulge! Partake! Enjoy, and may ye ever know the glory o' soup at two o'clock!"

"Hear, hear," came the far less enthusiastic reply as Soulflayer withdrew from the folds of his cloak six plain wooden bowls, which were passed out and filled in the blink of an eye by the Slayers' deft paws. Iosef found himself gazing in wonder at the colourful contents of the meal before him, and thus almost missed the otter's question. He lifted his head to find the entire crew alternately staring at him or at Soulflayer, and almost shrank in his seat before catching himself. The last thing he wanted was to come off as a frightened little rodent, and so tried his best to calmly meet the otter's eyes. He wasn't looking at Iosef, though; his gaze was fixed on Soulflayer, who appeared entirely unruffled at the heavy scrutiny being placed on his protege.

"Ay," the fox answered, never letting his grin waver. "Ah hoped ye'd think sae; he even went tae all the trouble tae do a runaway wagon wheel impression for ye." Iosef caught several brief smiles before the serious mood returned. The otter's expression hadn't shifted at all; if anything, his eyes were even more piercing than they had been a moment ago.

"This kid you've brought us... he's a Slayer, right?"

"Nay," Soulflayer said flatly. The otter scowled, slightly digging his claws into the table.

"So what do you expect us to do with him? He can't fight, and all the passive positions are filled; we have a recorder, an archivist, a smith, a weaver, a cook -"

Soulflayer cut him off abruptly, a mischievous glint in his eyes: "But last Ah heard, young Hemlock disnae have a partner tae go a-slayin with."

The otter's eyes widened suddenly, and he held up his paws as if to ward off whatever idea the fox was getting at. "Oh. Oh. Heath, you can't be suggesting that I -"

"What? Can't ye do it, Training Master?"

"I never said -"

"A lack of faith in yer abilities?"

"Hemlock has trained for three seasons! You can't expect this mouse to -"

"Sae ye can't do it?"

"It's not because I'm -"

"Ye've gotten too auld, have ye?"

"Winter's coming!"

"Ah think that's rheumatism talking."

"Rrrgh... Look, the idea that -"

"Is this how far the much-lauded Anchorclaw has fallen in my absence?"

The otter, caught between conceding defeat and taking on what Iosef assumed would be an impossible task, frowned, and finally nodded, making Soulflayer's face light up with triumph. "...I'll try, you slave driver. But if he fails, that's his problem, not mine. We'll have to discuss this further after lunch."

"Ay, it's as you say..." Soulflayer waved his warning off and took up a spoon; it was at this point that Iosef noticed that everybeast had one, though he could've sworn they hadn't been there before. Chalking it up to lack of observation, he began to eat along with the others, and quickly discovered that the soup, spicy and rich, was quite delicious and filling after nearly two weeks of rationed canned food and conservatives. As manners were thrown to the wind and slurping filled the air, Soulflayer loudly declared through full jaws, "Shae, matesh, Ah believe introductionsh are in order, don't ye?" He gestured to his right, where a lean male squirrel was in the process of swallowing a mouthful of noodles. The squirrel cleared his throat loudly, beating his chest before turning to look at Iosef.

"I'm Burrpelt the Avelyn. You can just call me Burr, though. Welcome to our humble abode-library-camp thing, er... what's your name again?"

"Iosef Fieldmouse."

"Right, nice to meet you, Iosef. I'm the Recorder; I take care of writing down the events of Slayings for future reference. When one of us comes back from a mission, they report to me - unless it's me coming back, in which case I, er... you get the idea." He offered an awkward smile, which the mouse returned. Next to speak was the squirrelmaid who had borne witness to Iosef's hillside descent, sitting next to him. She did so with a rather high voice, but not so high as to be ear-shredding.

"Hi, Iosef! My name's Marigold - usually go by Mary, I'm the Archivist, and Burr's sister. Are you excited? You're going to be killing Sues!" She gave his paw an enthusiastic squeeze, and Iosef smiled bashfully at her open display of affection. Marigold laughed, withdrawing her paw and flicking her tail. "He's cute. I like him."

Burrpelt leaned over his soup to whisper loudly: "Don't mind her - she's like this with everybeast passes through here. She used to think Hemlock was cute."

The white stoat, silent so far, bared his fangs in a grin. "Yeah, what happened to that?"

"Aw, I'm sorry to have led you on, dear - truth is, you're ugly as sin." Everybeast laughed at this; even Anchorclaw cracked a smile, a break in the solemn attitude he had displayed so far. Just as Iosef noticed this, the ermine reached across the table, offering his paw to shake.

"Hey, Iosef. I'm Hemlock, as our sweet Marsh Marigold has already made known to you. I'm starting out here as a Slayer - completed my exams two weeks back. Good to have you with us." Iosef shook Hemlock's hand, pleased to know that he had been forgiven for knocking into the stoat outside, and turned his eyes to the last beast at the table, the big sea otter, who looked rather resigned. His eyes met Iosef's, and for the first time the mouse noticed the gray streaks in his fur, and a quiet warmth behind the penetrating stare.

"Well, looks like it's my turn. Forgive me if I've seemed unwelcoming, Master Fieldmouse - your arrival bears much food for thought, along with -" and here he looked pointedly at Soulflayer, who lounged rather smugly in the seat at the other end of the table, "- questions that must be asked privately of our ***eherm*** benevolent coordinator. My name is Arinn Anchorclaw, Slayer and resident Training Master. And, it would seem, your sword fighting and slaying instructor starting tomorrow."

Suddenly Iosef understood the halting exchange between the fox and otter, or at least part of it. It would seem that Soulflayer, by appealing to the otter's pride and sense of challenge, had convinced Anchorclaw to agree to train Iosef, despite some great unnamed difficulty, and done so with great ease. It occurred to Iosef that Soulflayer had identified a weakness in Anchorclaw's personality and had exploited it with impunity; a sly, underhanded tactic - and this was the leader of the Slayers? Could it be that the fox was villainous by nature? Iosef ran these thoughts through his head as the group finished eating and, one by one, left the building after nodding thanks to Soulflayer for the meal, until only he and the fox remained. The leader of the Slayers gave him a sharp-toothed grin, displaying a sense of triumph the depth of which Iosef knew he didn't understood. No words passed between them, until at last Iosef, having had a question bubbling up inside him for several minutes now, asked, "Where did all of them come from? Why are they here with you, slaying Sues?"

Soulflayer's grin faded. He rose from his seat, taking his walking stick and motioning for Iosef to follow him. The pair stepped out of the wooden building to behold the encampment, with everybeast going about their business: Burrpelt sat beneath a tall pine tree, tapping his lip thoughtfully with a quill as he gazed down at the clipboard he held in his left paw. Marigold soared through the nearby woods at an incredible speed, latching onto high branches with twin whips which she flicked with perfect timing, coupled with her tail for additional balance. Below her, Anchorclaw spun a battleaxe in a deadly steel blur and let loose against Hemlock, who for almost a minute parried every blow with his bastard sword until suddenly the otter stood perfectly still, blade a hair's breadth away from slicing into the stoat's jugular. In the distance, a column of smoke rose above the trees, accompanied by a faint hammering noise.

"They all began in dark places, ye know. Every last one of these beasts was born in a Suefic." Iosef's eyes widened, and he looked harder at the crew, searching for residual Sparkling or some evidence of mental disability, but came up empty.

"Ye'd never have suspected, ay? They're a happy lot - it's what comes o' being liberated from the confines of one of those obscene tales. Look upon the squirrel siblings - they came intae being one 'dark and stromy nite', a pair of bumbling, cowardly woodlanders who were tae be led about by the featuring Sue, before Ah slew the vile creature and brought them back here." Looking at Marigold deftly flying about the highest boughs the wood had to offer, Iosef found the description 'bumbling' hardly appropriate. Soulflayer continued: "And over yonder, young Hemlock was tae be the inept, submissive brother of a Stu warlord. Brave lad helped me finish the bastard when Ah fought it (by accident, I might add). Anchorclaw, young, foolish and clumsy, served under a heartrendingly beautiful ottermaid of a captain, who might have made him intae a Stu himself had Ah not thought it only fair tae rend the lass's own heart asunder fer the sake o' all those poor seafaring sods she attracted. General Furiah of Cyclonespeak - who ye've yet tae meet - was employed by an eagle lord, described as the king o' the sky. Nobeast shed a tear when Ah had him plummet from the clouds he ruled." The fox chortled at the joke, which Iosef privately thought wasn't even remotely humorous.

Still, he wondered at what had changed the Slayers so much from the way Soulflayer had described them, and, as if reading his mind, was asked, "Ye want tae know how they came to be like this, from their rather unflattering backgrounds, ay, lad?" Iosef nodded, still looking over the Slayers, trying to imagine them as Soulflayer had said, as his answer came in the form of another question.

"Tell meh, what do ye think'll happen if ye bring anybeast worth his or her fur out o' a limiting environment, teach them the way o' the warrior, and pit them against enemies more powerful than themselves in a way what forces them tae adapt and think?" And at once Iosef knew the answer.

"They'll learn, and grow, and... develop!"

"Well spoken, lad! At last, ye've answered one of yer own questions - a firm step on the way tae stop hammering meh with their incessant deliveries. Now, Ah've a gift for ye; just stay put a minute and Ah'll be back."

Iosef obediently stood still as the fox quickly vanished into the library-esque building. A ruffling noise could faintly be heard, and not thirty seconds later Soulflayer emerged, clutching in his paw a paperback novel, which he thrust into the mouse's waiting paws. "A bit o' homework for ye. Consider it part o' yer training."

"... _Lord Brocktree_?"

"Might as well read the story before the story within the story preceding the origin story first, eh?"

* * *

"So, first day, huh?" Iosef looked up from the shortsword he was polishing to see Hemlock leaning against a tree, with a smile which betrayed only a hint of pity. Still, it was enough to make the mouse worry. "Yeah. What about it? Any advice to offer?"

"Not really. Only..."

"Only?"

"Brace yourself." At this, the stoat walked away, laughing maniacally. Iosef watched him go, and, just before he rose from his seat, felt a little shiver run up his spine. Would it really be that bad? Did Anchorclaw have some terrifying boot camp in store for him? Taking a moment to solidify his resolve, gathering a little bubble of faith in the good of goodbeasts everywhere in his heart and taking up his sheathed sword, the mouse set off into the woods.

It didn't take long for Iosef to reach the point he had been directed to the previous night by Anchorclaw. As he stepped out of the trees, he immediately noticed a massive stone, five yards high with an elevated, flat top, sitting in the very center of the clearing he now stood in. On top of the stone stood Arinn Anchorclaw, looking down on the mouse as a hawk might scrutinize its prey. A humourless grin etched its way onto Anchorclaw's visage as Iosef marveled at the sight before him. A dozen strange devices, all looking designed to inflict pain, complete with thin wooden bars elevated a yard or more above the grass that left little doubt as to the purpose of the devices. What appeared to be an obstacle course consisting of a legion of straw soldiers outfitted with wooden armour graced the Western end of the clearing, while a dirt path marked the beginning of a trail back into the woods, the length and design of which Iosef had no doubt would test his physical limits if he chose to run it. Several other devilish constructs filled the rest of the clearing, giving the young mouse a rather vivid idea of what was to come.

Anchorclaw, taking a step forward, leapt off the high rock and landed directly in front of his new pupil, towering over him. "I hope," he said slowly, almost as if emphasizing every word, "that you realize what you're about to go through, and that it was in no way my idea to put you through it." Iosef shook his head, with equal slowness, almost trembling in anticipation. His expression tightening, Anchorclaw pointed at a nearby wooden platform, suspended a yard off the ground by two ropes from which it swayed loosely in the breeze sweeping through the clearing, placed under a bough from which swung a weasel-sized pendulum with semi-sharp protrusions extending from its wooden frame. "We call that the Diviner. Soon you'll be calling it all sorts of names. Usually apprentices are up on that bar after a season or so of training, and almost always get injured their first time up. But don't worry; our friend Heath's decided to go easy on you." Even before Iosef could breathe a sigh of relief, the otter elaborated.

"He wants you on the Diviner, blindfolded, within the month."

Iosef almost dropped his sword, and Anchorclaw laughed vociferously. "Your Slayer training is to be completed before winter hits - in other words, you have one season to become competent enough to defeat a Mary Sue, according to that impatient soulflaying bastard. I tell you, Joseph, you're in for one Hell of a challenge."

And then, to Anchorclaw's surprise, the look of trepidation on the young fieldmouse's face was slowly replaced by an expression of single-minded determination. "It's Iosef, and I'll be killing Sues before the first snowflake falls."

Arinn Anchorclaw, momentarily taken off guard by his student's resolve, smiled darkly. "Let's make this happen, then. Draw your sword and have at you!"

* * *

 **A/N** : Hope you enjoyed. As usual, reviews are welcome. Thanks to my critics for their feedback, and for following the story thus far.


	4. Noxious Noodles and a Perilous Pendulum

**A/N:** Forgive my tardy update, esteemed readers; this semester is treating me poorly. Without a moment to lose, I give you noodles and snapshots of Iosef's training.

* * *

 _One week since Iosef's arrival_

"Egg noodles."

Anchorclaw nodded, a satisfied smile appearing on the otter's stern face. "Well done, Joseph. Soulflayer's egg noodles are the key to time travel. Now, what would you consume to rip space and dimensional fabric?"

Iosef, sitting cross-legged across from Anchorclaw on the monolithic stone in the training grounds, thought for a moment before replying: "Wheat noodles... right?"

His master nodded again. "Indeed. Looks like you've kept up your studying. Now come; I'll show you something you haven't seen yet." In a flash, Anchorclaw had leapt from the rock and was disappearing into the woods. Iosef, knowing he wouldn't be waited for, followed suit, sprinting into the trees after his mentor. Once again, Iosef thought as he ran, he was being tested.

From the moment he had come under Arinn Anchorclaw's tutelage, everything had become a test, a piece of training which would somehow improve this or that. The Slayer apprentice now slept with one eye open; more than once had he had his bedroll soaked by a bucket of water, somehow hidden inside his less-than-spacey tent and rigged to tip over as soon as he pulled up his covers. When miserably asked about it in the morning, the otter had said, with a completely straight face, "To make you more observant. See all, and you'll never be taken by surprise." In the mornings, which bore crisp breezes, each with a more noticeable chill than the last, the mouse would run a long trail through the woods to the clearing, where he would scale the great rock, three times his height, to meet with Anchorclaw, who would be sitting still as a stone with his eyes closed in apparent meditation. The first time Iosef had ascended the rock, he had been welcomed by an acorn launched from a sling, which had hit him square in the forehead and caused him to tumble to the earth in a heap. The next day, he had dodged the acorn, but had then met with the sling itself, which had blindfolded him and made him fall yet again. The third time, he had climbed up _behind_ Anchorclaw, who had then declared, "Better." The mouse shook his head as he flew through the woods after the dark-brown blur that was the Training Master. Though he had only known this world for three weeks, he suspected the challenges ahead would be some of the harshest he would ever know.

Arriving in camp and receiving knowing looks from the Slayers, scattered around the tents, Iosef saw Anchorclaw's tail disappearing into the central building and made for it. As soon as he passed through the door he immediately scoured the stacks for any signs of movement, and, hearing a crackle of flame and a sound like bubbling water, moved towards the source of these sounds. There, standing around the lit fireplace, were Anchorclaw and Soulflayer, the latter with a ladle in paw tending a pot of boiling broth. The otter beckoned, and Iosef scampered forth to look at the concoction in the pot. There swirled a kind of noodle he had never before seen, white in colour and thin compared to the other noodles he had seen so far. He noticed that Soulflayer seemed less than enthusiastic as he stirred his creation, and looked to Anchorclaw, whose expression was quite grim.

"These, Joseph, are rice noodles, which our friend Nael makes for us. Among all the noodles Heath uses, these are the most dangerous, both to Sues and ourselves. You have to be careful about eating these on missions, and whatever you do, don't eat them in camp." Iosef's expression became questioning, and Anchorclaw continued: "These rice noodles contain Sparkles. We've never known why, and really wish they didn't, because they're delicious, but as I said, they bear within them the ingredient - mineral, vitamin or otherwise, we're not sure - that gives Mary Sue her power."

The mouse stared in disbelief. Why was such a dangerous thing being prepared by Soulflayer? It seemed like such a poison would be prohibited and likely never spoken of, yet they were displaying it to him after only a week among the Slayers.

"Why do you make these?" He asked, unconsciously baring his teeth at the very idea of Sparkles in a place dedicated to the destruction of Sues.

"Well, lad, the fact is that Sues are indubitably powerful foes, whose abilities tend tae extend beyond what is physically possible," Soulflayer said, a shadow passing across his face before being dispelled by his usual jovial demeanor. "Sae, as a kind of last resort, Ah did some research and found that rice noodles bear strands o' Sparkling within them - something Ah intend tae look further intae. Ah've managed tae partially distill the vile substance through the use o' Broth, but Ah can't erase the Sparkles without overcooking the noodles, which Ah refuse tae do. Sae what we'll have here, in about thirty seconds, is a manageable dose o' Sue Serum. Dreadful, addictive stuff, but sometimes necessary. Shall ye demonstrate, Master Anchorclaw?"

The otter nodded grimly. "Yes, but not here. Come, Iosef, and take a bowl of those infernal noodles with you."

* * *

Sitting across from him on the high rock in the clearing, Iosef watched Anchorclaw quietly slurp up the last noodle in the bowl before gulping down the remaining soup and place the bowl to one side, wiping his mouth. Suddenly, the otter began to change; the grey streaks in his fur slowly vanished, and an unnatural shine rippled through his thick, luxurious pelt. His claws, previously dirty and slightly uneven, were now perfectly manicured. His headfur grew distinctively long and darkened in rakish long tresses, and Iosef was, to his horror, stricken with an overwhelming urge to bow low and kiss the feet of this figure worthy of legend. He reached for his blade, but found it difficult to unsheathe it. _Sparkling_ , thought the horrified mouse as Anchorclaw blurred and vanished. Iosef felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he went to look found himself gazing at empty air. "Do you see, Joseph?" Came a proud, majestic voice. Shielding his eyes from the sun, the mouse made out a tall, muscular form standing on tip-paw on the very top of a conspicuously tall pine - a hundred meters away. "This is the power of the rice noodles," Anchorclaw declared, his moderate voice somehow reaching Iosef's ears despite the distance. "Beware of it. More than one serving'll turn you into one of them."

While breathing a small sigh of relief, Iosef still shuddered in unease at the change that had overcome his stoic training master. If such a strong-willed warrior could be so easily infected with the blood of Mary Sue, what might Soulflayer's concoction do to him, an untrained young beast?

* * *

 _Two weeks since Iosef's arrival_

"Swing, one hand, steady, keep your weight balanced, now turn - don't stumble! Step farther and firmer, be certain of where your paw lands and your sword strikes! Again, faster. Faster than that - what did I tell you, balance! Don't lift your back leg so high; you're not a ballerina. Feint, now slash quickly, backstep, pirouette, low cut. Remember, you're to be working as a team with Hemlock - you're not trying to kill the Sue, but to injure it so that your partner can. Don't be a hero,and in the name of all things sacred _omit that quick thrust from your repertoire_. It's breaking your fluidity of motion. Paws wider apart - the focus isn't on economy of movement. Now butterfly twist!"

"Ack! Oww..."

"What went wrong, Joseph?"

"The sword is heavy!"

"Yes it is. It's adding to your forward momentum. Why do you think I chose to teach you the Jester's Blade form?"

"Because you're a sadist?"

"Besides that."

"Huhh... _'this form, comprised of sweeping, acrobatic techniques, is primarily to distract the enemy's eye and confuse them with the blur of motion that you become through its movements._ _'_ Would you call that an accurate description?"

"Sufficiently. I can tell you've been working, but you don't fully understand the spirit of the Jester's Blade."

"I understand it doesn't care for my spinal cord."

"It's you who are putting your beloved spine at risk by not throwing yourself into the twist. It needs, even more than momentum, absolute conviction on your part, which you're just not delivering. What is it that's holding you back?"

"..."

"You're not scared of it. Not of failure - the first half is fine. The touchdown, though... your sword arm is lacking in spirit."

"I'm not that strong, Master Anchorclaw."

"That I know. But you're strong enough for this. And yet, even if I tell you that and you accept it as the truth, you have to eliminate all self-doubt yourself before you can find the will to swing all the way through the movement. That is a fundamental aspect of the Jester's Blade - while moving, you must forget your doubts. Remember them once you're standing over your enemy's body. Now get up and try again, or I'll tell Soulflayer to spare you tonight's pasta."

"EEYAH - Agh!"

"At this point, you're the only one standing in your way, Joseph. I can't help you with that; from here on, the butterfly twist is all you."

* * *

 _One month since Iosef's arrival_

"This is absurd!"

"Yes."

"Insane!"

"Somewhat."

"Impossible!"

"No. Everyone in camp did this to get where they are now."

"After a season of training! They knew what they were doing, and you said they still screwed up."

"Yes, and so will you. But that's a given. No one's _ever_ gotten off the Diviner their first time unscathed."

"How reassuring."

"I know. Now get up there."

A feeling of trepidation boiled in Iosef's stomach as he put one footpaw on the Diviner's wooden beam, which already swayed menacingly despite his other paw anchoring it to the ground. The pendulum, though made of heavy wood, swung lightly along with the beam, foretelling no small amount of pain in the near future. With a gulp, Iosef looked to Anchorclaw, whose eyes betrayed the devilish smile his mouth wouldn't form. The otter nodded encouragingly, and, solidifying his resolve, stepped onto the wooden beam. Though it wobbled precariously as he steadied himself, Iosef found it easier than he had anticipated. It seemed Anchorclaw's constant roaring of "Balance!" was paying off after all. Feeling his confidence growing, Iosef took a step. The beam didn't betray him; the wobbling lessened. With the beginnings of a grin on his face, Iosef took another step, quicker this time, and, feeling like a veritable champion tightrope walker, pirouetted and aimed a whack at the coming pendulum with his wooden sword.

The instant he began to turn, he realized he'd screwed up. As his footpaw shifted, the beam shook, heedless of the metal chains holding it in place, and tipped. Immediately losing his balance, instead of meeting the pendulum with the edge of his wooden 'blade', he connected with the heavy object between his knuckles and the crossguard, knocking the sword out of his hands and jarring his shoulder, which reversed his pirouette and sent him crashing to the grass headfirst. Though the soft terrain slightly lessened the impact, it still hurt incredibly.

"Agh - Dammit!" Iosef cursed loudly, holding his screaming head between his paws. Glaring out of the corner of his eye, he spied an expression on Anchorclaw's face that came closer to resembling sympathy than anything he'd ever seen from the otter. Barely stopping himself from yelling at his trainer in rage, Iosef instead resorted to screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Anchorclaw waited patiently for Iosef to open his eyes before speaking.

"Don't trouble yourself."

The mouse's head snapped around, widening one particularly glaring eye incredulously. This wasn't a joke - the iron-faced Arinn Anchorclaw was consoling him. The otter continued, not seeming to notice Iosef's disbelief. "You made it farther than both Burr and Hemlock did on their first tries. In fact, the only person to do what you did without falling the first time was Mari - girl's a wonder, she is. So no, you're not an abject failure."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," came a high voice from the upper boughs of the wood. Anchorclaw didn't bother to look up, but Iosef did. There, sitting with her legs crossed, six meters off the ground, was Marigold, smiling at the suffering mouse with mischief in her light brown eyes. Speechless, Iosef only listened as Anchorclaw greeted her, and watched as she swung casually down to the earth and walked over, tail swishing brightly. "I was curious as to how our new friend was coming along, so I came to have a look." She looked Iosef up and down, exuding a rather careless air. "Good job, rookie. Your balance isn't half bad." Then, in a flash she leapt over him, landing in a perfect handstand on the Diviner. She walked up to the pendulum on her forepaws, maintaining absolute balance all the way, and shot a teasing glance at Iosef. "Of course," she said, giving the pendulum a swift kick, executing a back handspring and blurring, whips already in her paws and flying about in a whirlwind of splinters and leather, "you'll never have anything on me." Winking cheekily at the dumbstruck mouse, she lashed out with her whips, latched onto a branch and flung herself into the trees, leaving large strips shorn from the Diviner's hardwood exterior.

The two beasts remained there silently for a solid minute, before Iosef finally found his voice. "What the Hell was that? Master?"

The otter looked thoughtful, and even let out a small chuckle. "I think she just challenged you to one-up her. Never mind what I said - you'll have to trouble yourself if you'll be wanting to even try to take her up on that."

Rubbing his hurting cranium and wincing, Iosef gazed into the gap in the trees where she had disappeared. "Upstage the most acrobatic Slayer in the crew, who is also a squirrel. Nah, that won't happen."

Anchorclaw nodded sagely before hearing his pupil's next words: "But it sure won't hurt to try."

"You're quite mistaken. I presume that such an exertion would prove extremely painful," the otter declared, arching a brow at Iosef's boldness.

"Well, then I guess it will. But remember, you're the ones expecting me to become a full-fledged Slayer before winter hits. If anything, extra effort can only move me along faster, right?"

Turning away from the bold mouse as if condemning his determination, Anchorclaw grinned privately. "Well," he muttered, striding back through the woods to the training grounds, "won't this be an interesting two months."

* * *

 **A/N:** I did it! One step closer to real, bloody Sue-Slaying, and turning Iosef into a beast capable of creating such carnage! For those of you still interested - few as you may be - I thank you for your continued support. As always, reviews are welcome. Oh, and, if anyone noticed, I did take inspiration for the Slayer training from the fantastic _Witcher_ books by Andrzej Sapkowski. If you're able to get your hands on them, I highly recommend picking them up. Stick around - Sues will soon know the bite of Slayer steel.


	5. Skills Tested! Owl's Ascent

"Well, well," Heath Soulflayer marveled, looking Iosef up and down with more than a little proud satisfaction in his eyes, "how far ye've come, lad." The mouse bowed his head respectfully, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face. Here he was, only one season in training and on the verge of becoming a Sue Slayer; a speed of graduation faster than anyone in the camp had made. He looked at Marigold out of the corner of his eye, and could see a hint of well-veiled jealousy about her features. Iosef was, of course, aware that the short training had resulted in a technique far less refined than the ones practiced by the other Slayers, but he knew Marigold wasn't thinking along those lines. And he had not, indeed, become anywhere near as agile as she, but the swift declaration of readiness to take the Slayer exam by Soulflayer had made all the difference in her mind. He didn't know whether he should be savouring her envy or attempting to quell it, but that was far from the most pressing issue on his mind.

"When the sun sets, lad, ye shall undertake the exam. Fail, and it's another season o' training for ye. There are no immediate second chances, sae ye'd best be prepared," the fox intoned dramatically, pointing his snout towards the sun, which already hung low in the sky. Anchorclaw, standing in the shadow of the trees, smiled in concealed pride of his creation. Though he would never say it to anyone but Soulflayer, the mouse had worked exceptionally hard (due in no small part to Marigold's taunt) to meet the winter deadline, and while he was certainly the least skilled of all them, he had become more than proficient at the difficult and physically demanding acrobatics of the Jester's Blade. He could hold his own against Hemlock's brutal bastard sword for a solid minute and a half before tiredness and the stoat's skillful bladework proved too much for him, and Anchorclaw himself now took over thirty seconds to pin the agile young mouse down. During the course of his training, he had nearly won a race against the devilishly fast Marigold, survived a surprise ambush from Burrpelt and his prized Avelyn, completed Soulflayer's Sue and Slayer quizzes with higher-than-average marks and, on the first day of winter, lasted all of ten minutes on the Diviner.

Pacing back and forth in the snow before his pupil, Soulflayer noted with satisfaction the effect Anchorclaw's merciless training had taken on Iosef's body. The mouse's scrawny physique had given way to lean, powerful muscles, having been forced to strengthen in order to effectuate the taxing movements of the high-speed fighting style he had been taught, and kept up by daily exercise imposed in diabolically creative ways by the Training Master, who didn't believe in reprieves or excuses. Iosef had become the picture of a fit, healthy mouse.

And yet... the fox couldn't help but feel a bit of worry gnawing at him, however faintly. He saw in the young trainee's eyes a light that no longer existed in those of his fellow Slayers. _No matter that he's strong, he's young - little more than a season old, in fact. He's ne'er had tae grit his teeth, push through the Sparkly and slam his sword in between two flawless purple eyes. Maybe Ah should have left him on the road outside o' Mossflower... he was headed tae Redwall, and had plot convenience been on his side Ah've no doubt he would have made it and thenceforth been given work, warm shelter and more food than he would know what tae do with. Instead he now treads a path towards the dirty but necessary life o' the Sue Slayer, a battlebeast's life, the implications of which Ah dinnae think he truly knows yet. And soon... ay, all too soon, he'll know the jolt in his guts as his blade meets another beast's innards._

Soulflayer turned his gaze to the tents and archive he was so proud of, having built the latter with his own paws, and thinking of the splendour of the vermilion stones of the infamous abbey. _Are they happy?_ he wondered, no longer pacing. _Is this what they want, I wonder? Had I never brought them here, would they have found happiness elsewhere?_ But no sooner had that thought appeared than the fox shook it off. There was no use dwelling on what might have been - only on what would be. And what was to be stood before him, head bowed in deference to the coordinator's status. With a grin, Soulflayer, poked Iosef on the crown of his head. "Promise meh, lad - when ye're a Slayer, dinnae ever bow tae me or anyone again, d'ye hear? Ah'm no greater a beast than Hemlock or Mari, and if ye succeed here tonight ye'll have nae betters other than yer future self." Iosef, visibly trembling with anticipation and adrenaline, bounced on the tips of his paws, awaiting instruction.

His grin never fading, Soulflayer looked to Anchorclaw meaningfully and, walking stick in hand, swept wraithlike into the shadow of the trees, which stretched out, long and dark, under the setting sun. Anchorclaw, his face as grim as ever, nodded acquiescence and walked forward to stand before his pupil. Iosef met the big sea otter's eyes with his own, welcoming whatever obstacle lay before him.

"Heath and I spoke at length about what your challenge should be, Joseph. Ready to hear it?" Iosef's answering nod was so quick that Anchorclaw almost missed it. He continued. "The sun will set in a few minutes. As soon as you can no longer see its light over the trees, the exam begins." The Training Master turned and pointed towards a mountain, rising above the surrounding forest in the distance. "That mountain we call Owl's Ascent. As soon as the exam starts, run towards it. The objective of the exam is to be standing at its peak when the sun rises. It must be exactly the summit, no less. You'll be invigilated every step of the way; don't worry about an uncertain judgement. I know I don't need to tell you this, but if you aren't standing there when light meets my eye, it's another season of training for you come spring."

Iosef nodded even faster this time, his muscles taut and stomach tight. As the last rays of light began to dim on the horizon, he turned his head and smiled at the Slayers. Burrpelt offered him a smile, Hemlock a single upturned thumb, and Marigold an impish smirk, which Iosef mischievously returned. He felt a heavy paw clap him reassuringly on the shoulder, but when he turned his head back Anchorclaw was already gone.

As was the sunlight from the forest.

Immediately Iosef sprang into a brisk jog, surging through the snowy trees like a shadow chased by darkness. He was slightly aware of branches flicking over his head and past his face, dodging shrubs where their outlines appeared and leaping over roots betrayed by the shapes they formed on the unlit forest floor. His shortsword didn't clank, being short enough to have sheathed on his upper back instead of hanging loose at his waist (a suggestion which he owed to Hemlock, who had handled all kinds of blades), so he lost little energy due to his weapon. Knowing the way was long and he'd become tired if he didn't ration his energy, Iosef put into effect the breathing exercises Anchorclaw had drilled into him by medium of the long path he ran every morning. Narrowing his eyes and keeping his body carefully aligned so as not to augment any air resistance, the mouse barely felt his strength draining with the passing minutes. He knew he would have to slow down and rest eventually, but he would need ample time gained for such a rest. Unfortunately, he had brought no food with him, not knowing what the exam would consist of, and so would have to ignore the hunger he knew would eat away at him later on.

* * *

"Where'd Soulflayer go, Anchorclaw?"

The otter turned his head away from the window he had been staring out of and looked across the archive to Marigold, who was lying atop one of the shelves with her head dangling over the edge, eyes on the dancing flame in the hearth. He found his eyes drawn to it as well, wondering if a spirit inhabited it and made it rise and twist so. "He won't be back tonight, if that's what you're asking.'

"You know what I mean. How does his disappearance pertain to Iosef?"

"Oh, is that his name?"

Anchorclaw allowed a grin as he dodged a playfully thrown folder. "You vile old seadog, you know what his name is. But never mind that; you're avoiding my question." The otter looked back out the window at the mountain, over which moonlit clouds floated idyllically.

"The road to the mountain is only half the challenge."

Marigold rose so quickly she almost fell off the shelf.

"What?"

"Heh... you didn't suspect that? Why else would he vanish? Soulflayer has a vested interest in his little protege, and insisted on being part of his exam. When that poor mouse makes it to the mountain, he'll be in for an unpleasant surprise, mark my words."

"That's evil."

"And in no way my idea. You can blame that villain of a fox who makes our noodles if Iosef fails."

"Iosef?"

"Who?"

* * *

Resting his back against a tree, Iosef sighed heavily and rubbed his paws together to generate warmth. After running a solid half-hour, he thought he had gained enough time for a short break, to be followed by a quick walk, another short break and then back to jogging. He only hoped the mountain's distance from him wasn't a betrayal of his eyes, and it was really over thirty-five miles away. He wondered if he should walk on all fours to evenly distribute the burden amidst his arms and legs, but decided against it for the moment. If he came under sudden attack in the darkness, it was best to be on two legs in order to immediately launch into the Jester's Blade.

This proved wise.

Not twenty minutes later, he heard whispers in the foliage above and beside him, and before he had run two hundred meters was beset by a pack of savage, howling treerats. Closing his teeth together so as not to bite his tongue with an unexpected impact, Iosef, quickly taking note of the surrounding vegetation, drew his sword and flung himself into the air, lashing out in swift, calculated blows not intended to land. The rats, quite unprepared for any sort of resistance, much less this whirlwind of iron, soon backed into the shadows, hissing through their fangs. Their red eyes faded into the night, and Iosef moved on, walking quickly with his sword drawn in case of another attack. He didn't doubt the treerats were following him through the woods, waiting for him to let his guard down. Perhaps they had bows? Could their eyes pierce through the night better than his own? These questions plagued the young mouse as he forged onwards, never slowing, eyes constantly roving, trying to catch in the blackness a flash of blacker fur.

The rats did not disappoint. Crude wooden shafts soon came sailing out of the forest, some of which Iosef knocked out of the air with his sword, some of which he evaded; they were not swift arrows, and his assailants less than phenomenal archers. Still, it unnerved him that none emerged from the shadows to challenge him. Fighting a number of enemies on one's own was one thing; being unable to see them at all was quite another. He let a quiet breath issue from his closed teeth, leaping back to avoid a disorganized volley that pounded into the tree across from which he had been standing. Iosef twirled his sword, letting it flash in the moonlight and making sure the rats knew he was prepared to kill them if they came any closer.

He was answered by a terrifying growl.

Iosef had never heard the noise before, but what chilled his blood was that he was fairly certain of what beast had made it. He had read _Mossflower_ , and thus he was rather certain of the nature of the monster that would soon be beholden to him. This creature didn't need to see Iosef to kill him; its sense of smell would do that for it.

From around a tree, a massive black shape lumbered into the moonlight, its fur contrasting unpleasantly with the snow on the bare branches above. Easily the size of a badger, the creature before Iosef growled again, a dire, animal hunger plain in its voice. It was a water rat, but one the likes of which Mossflower country hadn't seen since Queen Tsarmina had ruled Kotir. The rat sniffed the air, standing still for a moment in the soft breeze, and then let out an ear-splitting bellow, curling its lethal claws into hooks evocative of the scythe of Death himself, the sound of its roar shaking the snow from the branches. Nearly falling over in fear, Iosef turned and made a break for it. Killing this thing hadn't been mentioned in the challenge, and the mouse was almost certain that a battle would lead to his demise. His fighting style, though useful against large opponents, was nothing to this rat, who wouldn't be fooled by the intricacies of the Jester's Blade; it wasn't looking for him, it was _smelling_ him. It cared nothing for the perils of his flashing sword; its sole desire was to consume the victual before it.

And so Iosef ran, as fast as he could, dropping to all fours and forgetting all the past season's training. _Screw it_ , he thought, sprinting madly in the direction he had already been going. His little paws, unsuited for running in snow, kept sinking deeper than he anticipated and throwing his stride off just a little bit. The titanic rat behind him suffered no such natural adversity, pounding through the forest with unceasing vigour and gnashing its teeth at the thought of seizing its prey. The treerats flew overhead, chittering madly and firing their arrows at the desperately fleeing mouse.

Springing over a fallen log, Iosef noticed a break in the treeline in front of him, and despaired. The rat would catch him in the open, that was certain. In the brief moment of distraction, his forepaws met a treeroot, which he had been consistently avoiding until this point. Iosef cursed shrilly as he tumbled head over heels into the open. Before him loomed the mountain, a monolithic slope of steep earth. Perhaps he could outdistance his pursuer on the incline?

A roar, much closer behind him than he had hoped, told him that it was far too late for that.

Rolling onto his back, Iosef stared up into the monstrous visage of the hulking predator who had deemed him its prey. Something like a horrible, triumphant smile crossed its hideous features as it reached down for the fallen mouse. _Move!_ Iosef's mind screamed, but his body failed to do so. He merely sat there, frozen as death in the form of five deadly claws approached.

And to his astonishment, the claws receded as the rat was slammed into by a creature even larger than itself. Fearsome talons dug into its broad shoulders, and a sharp beak stabbed into the rat's head. His body finally responding, Iosef scrambled back as it roared, swatting at its attacker, but was roughly wrenched off balance and tumbled sideways with the other beast still affixed to its upper body. The creature gouged deep, bloody furrows into the rat, who defended itself viciously, but couldn't manage to shake off its enemy. The unknown beast, a storm of feathers and claws, pressed the attack, carving and slashing brutally until, with one last defiant hiss, the huge rat moved no more.

The great horned owl, lifting its beak from its prey's shredded throat, swiveled its head to the treerats milling about the edge of the forest and, lifting its wings threateningly let out a harsh, piercing shriek, sending the scurrying back into the darkness with little yipes of their own, more likely than not making empty threats of revenge. Not even watching them go, the owl turned its attention to Iosef, who stood still in the snow, gazing up into its large, evil eyes. They remained that way for the longest ten seconds of Iosef's life, before it spoke in a harsh, yet distinctively female voice:

"Well? Wilt thou not move? Or art thou rooted to thy spot, as helpless as the shrubs that dot the earth?"

Shaking his head, Iosef bowed respectfully to his rescuer, unsure of whether he'd be next on her menu. "N-no, madam. See, I'm - well, was - no, still am - trying to complete an examination of my skills to become a Sue Slayer, but I - that rat -"

The owl lowered her head towards the mouse, cutting him off. "I know of thy mission. After all, I was assigned to be thy invigilator."

Iosef blinked. Then this must be... "Are you Furiah?"

"I am," the owl acknowledged, dipping her head in a slight nod. "Thou must forgive thy peers; they knew not that such a monster as this lurked among the ranks of those tedious little rodents." She sighed, shaking her head. "Always, they come to bite the ankles of poor Soulflayer, and always they gain not a scrap. I come to hunt them, yet here they stay, the pitiful fools. Not a soul could have suspected those worms were harbouring this behemoth." She poked the unmoving rat with a talon, as if expecting it to come back to life and wreak undead vengeance. Gleaning no such reaction, she began to strip the rat of flesh and consume it. Iosef turned and vomited in the snow, totally unprepared for the gory display. While bent over, he heard Furiah speak through a chunk of rat meat:

"'Twould be in thy best interest to quit this place; dawn is almost upon thee." Iosef looked up through his dry heaving, worriedly searching for a hint of yellow light where there was none. Somewhat reassured, he suspected that Furiah spoke the truth, and so, trying to omit the bloody spectacle behind him from his memory, he began to climb the rather gentle slope of the mountain.

Half an hour later, though tired from his long trek, Iosef was smiling. The peak was not ten minutes away, and the sun's rays nowhere in sight. Clenching his fists in preemptive triumph, Iosef picked up his pace, feeling victory at hand. The ground seemed to clear before him, the slope lessen, as his goal got close and closer. Ahead of him lay a large stone wedged into the face of the mountain, which Iosef considered vaulting over before a tall cloaked figure stepped out from behind it.

Heath Soulflayer's grin looked positively demonic in the moonlight.

"Ye made it, lad. Ah was hoping ye would. In truth, Ah was beginning tae lose hope... but here ye are. Congratulations. Ye're almost a Sue Slayer."

Iosef tried to return the fox's grin, but something in Soulflayer's voice told him that such a gesture would not at all befit his present situation. The vulpine cook took a step forward, and Iosef took a corresponding step back. He blinked; he hadn't told his feet to do that. Then he looked into the fox's yellow eyes, and found himself chilled to the bone.

Aside from the colour, the eyes looking back were indistinguishable from those of the giant water rat. The eyes of a hunter looking at a meal-to-be. Everything inside the mouse told him to run back down the mountain and never look back. He half-turned, unthinkingly preparing to do just that. It was then that Iosef realized that this was a battle tactic Soulflayer was applying to this particular situation. Using only his eyes, the noodle chef had somehow evoked their primal roles as predator and prey in yet another test, to see if Iosef would break and run at such a daunting threat. Despite having come to this somewhat reassuring conclusion, the mouse shivered; he liked it best when he wasn't being thought of as somebeast's potential snack.

A dozen questions bubbled into Iosef's mind, and were on the verge of spilling forth from his mouth when Soulflayer answered them all at once. "I'm here as the second half of your exam."

 _Oh._

 _Damn it all._

"Ah'm the only one standing between ye and the summit, right there." Soulflayer indicated the Slayer-to-be's objective with his thumb. "It's five minutes away. The sun rises in ten. Which gives ye," and here something that looked like a cross between a grin and a snarl appeared on the fox's scarred visage, "four minutes tae land a strike on meh. Remember, lad, if ye don't strike with intent tae kill, ye won't come close tae meh."

Iosef drew his sword, an equally savage grin appearing on his face. "I'm not the confused little fieldmouse you sent flying over that hill anymore, Soulflayer. You won't stand in my way."

The fox's ensuing smirk was all it took for the mouse to attack.

Using his entire body's momentum, Iosef's front footpaw lifted off the earth and sent him flying towards his quarry in a spinning leap. Having carefully calculated the distance and his own velocity of movement, the mouse had spun so that his blade would first meet Soulflayer's hip, rise up, and cleave down in a perpendicular strike all through the fox's abdomen. If the blow landed, it would almost split the fox in four. But even as Iosef turned, upside down in midair, to deliver that first strike, he looked only on empty air where Soulflayer had been.

Iosef landed awkwardly, almost slipping on the snow, not having even suspected that he wouldn't make contact. A high, mocking chuckle rose up from behind him, and the mouse turned his head to see Soulflayer standing in a casual, nonchalant slouch, his predator's eyes daring Iosef to try and hit him again. Careful not to lose focus, Iosef sprang once more, this time anticipating a miss every time and thus creating a consistent storm of blows thrown from strange angles, attempting to divert the fox's attention with the acrobatics behind his relentless slashing. To the mouse's growing frustration, this did nothing. Soulflayer didn't even have the decency to blur out of the way of the sweeping blade; rather, he simply wasn't there. It didn't help that the fox's evil eyes never strayed from Iosef's own; whenever the mouse lashed out forwards, there they were again, stabbing into his being, whittling away his quickly waning confidence.

With a growl, Iosef lunged, driving his arm forward in a quick, savage thrust. This time not only did he meet with nothing in front of him, but also with a vicious, sudden kick to his upper back from behind, launching the mouse into the air several metres up the mountainside. Landing facefirst in the thin snow and feeling the full impact of the hard dirt underneath, Iosef groaned as he tried to rise, almost slipping again. He heard Soulflayer's voice behind him hiss: "No stabbing. Didn't Anchorclaw teach you?" With a snarl Iosef pushed himself to his feet, his muscles already feeling the exertion of the Jester's Blade and his back throbbing strangely where he had been kicked. It was more than likely that the fox had hit a nerve, and just as likely that he had done it intentionally. _Damn it_ , Iosef thought. Despite all his training, failure was staring him in the face and laughing. To his horror, Iosef felt a knot in his stomach - to be a Slayer was the only goal he had ever striven for, literally his life's work at this point, and he was on the verge of having to admit that he wasn't good enough, hadn't worked hard enough. Iosef felt something sting the corners of his eyes, and blinked furiously, trying to dispel the crippling frustration that was burning inside him. _Well_ , said a tiny voice in his mind, _at least you're standing higher than him._

Iosef blinked again, though this time due to a moment of clarity. He was, he realized, standing higher on the slope that his opponent. And all of a sudden, the rudiments of a strategy formed in his mind.

 _What have I got to work with?_ He wondered, eyes skimming his surroundings. _Height. Snow. Moonlight. What do those amount to?_

Iosef almost smiled, but restrained it. This was it; a do or die gamble, one final assault into which every last bit of energy he had would go. Flourishing his blade, Iosef assumed the ready stance, but stood his ground, aligning himself so that the moon was at his back. Gazing down the mountain, he noticed a slight indentation in the snow just behind Soulflayer, indicating the presence of a furrow in the ground beneath it. His plan set, Iosef lowered his body and catapulted himself down the mountainside, flying at his foe in a movement which by all outward appearances would be construed as the last stand of a beaten fighter. In reality, the wildness of the attack was an artifice, concealing the plan to be carried out.

As Iosef expected, Soulflayer was not in the space his blade swept through. As he had also expected, Soulflayer was now standing a few feet further away than he had been, but his stance was slightly different from the one he had been in a moment ago, ready for another attack. Iosef didn't disappoint; he came down like a hailstorm, launching a single, vicious diagonal blow while soaring towards his target. The fox backstepped again, right onto the depression in the snow. His foot slid two inches backwards, and he adjusted his stance to steady himself.

Even as that little shift took place, Iosef was already in the air, a moonlit silhouette of wrath raining one final strike down on his seemingly untouchable foe. His stance slightly off, the fox took a step back, righting himself and springing another meter away. The mouse landed in a heap, thudding heavily into the snow, utterly spent. Looking on his prostrate, defeated protege, his cold eyes held a hint of pity. Iosef had worked so hard, pushing his physical limits every day for the past season, only to fail at the very end. Heath Soulflayer had known from the start that a single season wouldn't be enough to train a Slayer, but in putting Iosef through the hell required to approach such an objective he had planted the seeds for a warrior mightier than any other. _Perhaps another season'll do it_ , he thought, walking forward to examine the fallen trainee. As he did, he felt something wet run down his nose and chin. Putting a paw to his snout and pulling it away, Soulflayer looked down and saw blood.

 _What?_ His mind raced, uncomprehending. He had gauged the distance of that final strike perfectly. There should have been nearly five inches between his nose and the blade. He heard a hoarse chuckle rise from the shivering form in the snow, and looked on in surprise as Iosef rose, pulling himself up using his sword as a crutch (which Anchorclaw would have thumped him on the head for, had he seen it). "I did it. I got you. Now 'scuse me, I have to go complete the exam."

Soulflayer limped up quickly as the mouse began fairly dragging himself up the slope, nearly slipping with every step. "What did ye do, lad? Ah saw the jump ye made; ye should've fallen short o' hitting meh."

"Yeah... I know. The thing is, when you kicked me, you gave me the high ground." _Ah. Sae he..._ Iosef continued hoarsely, his tired eyes set on the summit, so close, yet so far. "There was a little dent in the snow behind you. I thought you would backstep 'cause your low position would lend itself more to that than a sidestep. And I made sure I had the moon at my back." He coughed, now feeling the real impact of the cold on his spent lungs. "And so... when... when I jumped... I let my sword slide from my hand... up to the pommel, while in the full shine of a moonbeam, so you... wouldn't see it happennn..." Slurring his last word, the mouse stopped, his right forepaw digging at the snow in front of him before sagging.

For a moment Soulflayer stood still, looking down at the beast who had given every fiber of his being to land a strike on him. For a moment he hesitated. For a moment he reflected on the technicalities of the Slayer exam. And promptly decided that there were no technicalities to reflect on.

Kneeling, the lame fox slung Iosef's arm over his shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged the semi-conscious mouse the last two hundred meters up the mountain. Planting his and his burden's paws firmly into the snow resting on the summit, Soulflayer grabbed Iosef's chin between two fingers and aimed his face towards the light that was slowly appearing over the forest from the Eastern horizon. "Lift those eyelids, lad, and look on warm, bright success." The mouse did so, taking in the rising Sun through half-lidded eyes. As he lost consciousness, he murmured something the fox barely caught.

"So... you'll let me go and kill Sues... now?" Soulflayer smiled, covering the sleeping mouse's body with his cloak.

"Ay."

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm not too happy about this ending, but I figured this is the best I'm going to be able to produce right now. This chapter has been the hardest to write so far, but I think they'll get easier. Up until now, it's all been establishment, getting the story to where I need it to be. But as of the next chapter... that's right, the reason you're reading this damn thing: ACTUAL SUE-SLAYING! YAY! As always, reviews are more than welcome, and I hope you've enjoyed up till now.

\- L.o.K.


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